Raised For The Slaughter
by BeatingHeartandWings
Summary: The Angels have a plan to find the righteous man. Castiel finds him and falls in love with him. But to tell the righteous man his destiny means sending him to his death, and can Castiel kill the man he loves?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic was inspired by the song Abraham's daughter by Arcade Fire and I know that Dean's not really a daughter but we can forget that bit. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing **

The righteous man. It is he who will grant salvation to humanity, it is he who will prevent the apocalypse from passing, it is he who will become the Michael sword and will defeat Lucifer by casting him back into his cage. There are many good men who deserve that title and worthy of such a destiny but Heaven needs the true righteous man in order for the prophecy to be truly completed. So the Angels have decided to take it upon themselves to try and find the Righteous One.

It's not going that well.

Some Angels have confronted the fates, to show them the identity of the righteous man, but even fate had trouble to see who it is. Several garrisons of Angels have even manipulated time itself; travelling into the future to find _Him_. Alas, there were too many futures, too many outcomes even for Angels, to see who the righteous man is. So finally the Heavenly Host decided to revert back to their old ways. They found their true righteous men that way before that way so why wouldn't it work now? Heaven wanted to find those worthy of being the Righteous man and test them, their loyalty, their faith, their love.

So the Angels, full of intent and a single-minded purpose, did exactly that.

In a motel in Louisville, Kentucky, John Winchester dozes on a gaudy, moth eaten couch, drinking his ass off, when he gets a message from heaven. It wasn't the most ideal time as him and his sons Sam and Dean, just an hour before were doing a regular salt'n'burn before the vengeful widow spirit managed to lay a couple of punches on 'em. Well, Dean needed stitches on his abdomen and Sam was knocked unconscious… but it was nothin' they couldn't handle -they were tough boys and they were Winchesters. Making sure they were still breathing, John turned his head to look at his sons sleeping, sharing a queen bed. Damn. When did Sam get so tall for a 15 year old? Or was he 16? John blamed his inability to recall his youngest son's age on the alcohol. The affects of exhaustion, pain and being piss drunk had John just under the surface of sleep, and John closed his eyes.

_John was back in his home town in Indiana, he was at the 'Batter Up' batting cages where he would spend time as a teen. The nets had fist-sized holes in them and the standard issue bats they gave were worn. John loved the place. Because this was a dream, he could hit every ball without even trying; he hit what would have been a good shot until some random guy caught the ball. Wow. Even other people in his dreams are pretty good fielders. The guy was wearing a trench coat and had crazy dark hair, and when he turned around John felt something close to terror, he didn't know why- it was just that the guy had electric blue eyes that made John feel as if they were going to fry him, then he opened his mouth and his deep voice, intense and full of force that it echoed through John's consciousness, and with every word it felt as if his atoms were going to split until the Winchester became nothing. _

_"John Winchester. My name is Castiel, I am an Angel of the Lord and we have work for you." _

When Dean woke up his first thought was _Ow!_ His eyes were gritty and his chest and stomach felt like a bull had repeatedly rammed into him. Turns out it was Sam. His gangly arm was spread out on Dean's chest_. This is why we should stop sharing beds when we're over 12…_ Dean thought, irritated at his rude awakening, but Dean would rather have to wake up to Sammy's body parts molesting him than leave Sam alone at night. The stitches from when that frigid bitch raked her nails down Dean's chest started to feel like they would open at any second. No wonder why that ghost chick's husband decided to gank her, she really did have a set of claws on her.

He craned his neck to look at Sammy or _Samantha._ Seriously, his floppy brown hair was so long you could actually mistake him for a girl. Dean thinks that Sam grows his hair too long to cover up the amount of bruises and cuts they get from hunting; his baby brother gets uncomfortable when people ask him about how he acquired them. Sammy just wants to be normal and it saddens Dean to think that the only bit of normalcy he gets is when he hides his wounds.

Dean looks round the crappy motel room, every single pattern seemed like it was straight from the 1970's, like all generic motels are. He looked at the alarm clock; the neon green colours read 08:50 AM. _Shit._ They over slept and when you're a hunter time cost lives; the Winchesters needed to head to Birmingham, Alabama after they found out a cursed necklace was killing the people who wore it.

Dean stood up too fast, his chest felt like it was on fire but he had to wake up his dad, he probably overslept… or hung-over. So when Dean saw his father completely awake and sitting up, staring into nothingness, Dean had to admit he was pretty terrified. It looked like his dad had gone into shock, but Dean had saw his dad face werewolves and evil spirits without even batting an eyelid. Even on the anniversary of Mary's death, John didn't seem like this, if anything, it made John even more determined to hunt down every evil sonofabitch he could find. And for once, in a long time Dean felt like that scared little boy who realized he lost a mother.

"Dad?" No response from John, his eyes were glassy, but still seemed to be in focus.

"Dad!" Dean shouted at his father, panic growing in his voice. He stalked up to his dad and slapped him round the face. That's when John reacted. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he barely slept last night. He squinted up at Dean, as if he couldn't really see him.

"Sam?" He asked, as if he were unsure.

"No dad, it's me… Dean. Your other son." Dean felt so helpless; he never thought he'd have to say those worse to his own father. John slumped further into his seat, his expression was sad, dejected even. _Why isn't dad happy to see me? Aren't I as good as Sammy?_ Dean's mind was swimming with questions and thoughts, so he decided to get Sam; he'll know what to do, maybe that's why dad asked for him.

Sam came stumbling in, his footing was unsteady but he still managed to stay on his big clown feet.

"Dean? What's going on?" He asked, his voice sounded suspicious.

"Um. It's dad. I'm not sure. He keeps… I don't know, Sam. He asked for you." Dean could barely get out a sentence, but he felt so useless now. He looked at his baby brother, observing his father and checking his vitals- _Why couldn't I do that?_ Dean thought, feeling incompetent.

"Dad? It's Sam, Dean said you wanted me." Sam said hesitantly. He wasn't sure how his father would react; besides, he never knew how his dad would react anyway, regardless of being in shock. Then, it was as if Sam flipped a switched on his dad, his eyes focused on his youngest son, and John's whole demeanour changed.

"Sam? Sam. We have to go. Now." His father's voice sounded like his own, commanding, yet it seemed lighter with pride. John stood up and started to head out the door as if in a daze and Sam, now worried and scared, followed whilst trying to talk some sense into his father.

"Dad? Dad! You're not well, you're in shock. Dad! You shouldn't be moving around. I need to check for a concussion!"

It was Dean who managed to wrap his arms around his father, but John shook him off with so much force than Dean stumbled back and slammed into the wall with a loud bang. Dean gasped, but it was more with surprise than pain; dad had never deliberately hurt his sons even when they were doing combat training. _Maybe dad is possessed…No!_ He already has protection charms and his tat; there would be no way that a demon was hitching a ride.

John opened the motel door and turned around to face Sam; his face had a determined look, like when he was hunting.

"Sam, come." That was all he said before he just walked out. The younger Winchester just stood there, rooted to the spot, too scared to move. He looked at his older brother for help like always, even in the crappiest situations Dean always knew what to do, but now he just looked hopeless.

"Sam! We're going, right now!" John shouted, even from outside his voice managed to scare his sons.

"What about Dean, dad? Is he coming?" Sam asked, he never left his brother's side and the thought of Sam going off with his dad, all alone seemed to terrify him.

"No! Dean will wait here for me when I get back. We don't need Dean for this." John seemed angry now, and grabbed Sam's arm and wrenched him out of their motel room and to the parking lot.

"Dad! Dad let go! I want Dean!" The younger Winchester tried to wrestle himself out of his father's grasp but John was too strong and shoved Sam into the back of the impala. Dean tried to wrestle John again, but now John punched Dean with so much force that when Dean sprawled onto the tarmac of the parking lot he didn't get up. He didn't even _move._ By now, Sam was crying, why was his dad acting like this? And Dean. Dad loved Dean and would never deliberately lay a finger on him, but now his father had knocked him out like it was nothing.

Sam didn't even move, he was terrified, even more terrified than when he first had to kill a werewolf, when he was 12 and shaking. He didn't dare move just in case his father was going to do anything worse to him, or Dean.

John sighed with irritation. "Can't leave the boy here…People will talk." He then scooped up his eldest son, as if he weighed nothing and shoved him in the backseat. He then proceeded to handcuff him to the interior door handle.

When his dad turned the ignition on Sam knew he was screwed. He really hoped that Dean will save him but Sam was a smart kid and he knew that it wouldn't be possible.

"Sam! Sam, get up!" John's voice was loud enough to drag Sam out of sleep, he couldn't remember when he dozed off but he had been crying a lot and tears make him sleepy. He sat up and his muscles cramped. Despite how big a monster the Chevy is, he has always ended up in pain from all the weird sleeping positions. Sam turned his head to look at the backseat, and saw Dean, still unconscious, slumped like a rag doll. Wiping the tears that had formed in his eyes, Sam exited the car sluggishly and looked around.

They seemed to be near some sort of forest which seemed to go on for miles. Sam realized that they weren't parked in official parking lot and Sam tried to ignore the nagging voice at the back of his head saying _maybe because we don't want to be found._ They saw the inconspicuous trail they would have to take, and it dawned on the younger Winchester that maybe Dean wouldn't find Sam and John here, everything seemed to go on for miles and that's when Sam had an idea. So he discreetly got out his Swiss army knife and done it.

Dean woke up in pain for the second time today, except this one was more emotional than physical. He opened his eyes, sat up though his stomach muscles were protesting and saw that Sammy was gone. His jaw felt hot and was throbbing with pain but that was the least of his problems; _Why did they go? Where did they go? Would they come back? Would Sammy be okay_? Dean's mind was racing and before he knew it, tears were streaking down his cheeks, he was distressed and frustrated and he hated being away from Sammy, even in school and the fact that he's with dad… He tried to move his arm, but he was handcuffed to the door handle. He tried to pry his hand out of the cold metal's grasp but failed. When he was younger his dad taught him how to pick locks in handcuffs. He could practically do it in his sleep. He always had a lock pick hidden in his watch, and in about 30 seconds he was out of handcuffs. Piece of cake. He fumbled about in his pocket before he got out his cell phone. He scrolled through the contacts until he found Sam's number and called him.

One ring…two rings… three rings…. With every second Dean's heart seemed heavier, like it was turning to lead. On the eighth ring it picked up.

"Dean?" Sam asked, soft and quiet through the phone.

"Sam!" Dean felt relief flood through him, and hope, hope that he will find his brother.

"Sammy, where are you? Where's dad? What's he doing?"

"I pretended I needed to pee so dad left me here but he said he'll back be back in about 20 seconds. We're at the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. I left you a trail. Dean, please hurry, I don't know what dad gonna do when we stop hiking. Please Dean." Sam's voice broke, and Dean could practically hear the tears through the phone.

"Sam, I promise, I'll come for you. Promise." Dean tried to reassure Sam that he'll come for him, no matter what. "A trail of what?"

"Dean, please. I'm scared." And that just broke Dean's heart, because no matter how old Sammy will be, he will always be the little four year old who had nightmares of the monster in the cupboard, and Dean will always be the eight year old, trying to comfort him by humming Hey Jude. It was natural, protecting Sammy was as natural as breathing, and without Sam, Dean felt as if he was deprived of oxygen. As if he was _dying_. It was instinct to protect his brother and now Dean knew that he would try his damn hardest to find him. So when he spoke his next words, he meant every single one.

"Sammy, I promise, I'll come for you."

Silence.

Sam probably would have enjoyed the scenery if he wasn't held hostage by his dad. The trees made him feel trapped, in a way. He was glad he had boots on but his feet still managed to pain him. They were hiking for hours, the trail never seemed to end, they passed multiple springs full of water and Sam wished that his dad had other drinks in his jacket apart from Jack. He had a meagre lunch of beef jerky which done nothing to sate his thirst. He was so very tempted to use his knife on his dad, but John had deadlier weapons and he could easily take his son down. Instead he would just use the knife for his trail. He wanted Dean to follow it quickly as Sam didn't know how long he'll last; he felt disorientated and his tongue felt thick and fuzzy in his mouth, the higher the seemed to go, the colder it was getting and when they finally stopped Sam was shivering and dehydrated.

They ended up in some sort of clearing, trees surrounded the area and in the center were a lot of rocks and mud. He figured it was about 9 pm that night. Just 10 hours ago he was sleeping, with his dad and brother, safe in a motel room. It seemed so far away now, like a distant memory. Sam turned around to face his dad- instead of the usual determination that he wore now he just seemed tense.

"Dad? Why are we here?" Sam tried to make his voice steady and calm but ultimately failed.

"Sam. Sammy, you're_my_ special son. You know that, right? More special than your brother and this is why you have been chosen. This is why they chose _me_, in fact." John seemed oddly calm and his eyes had look to them that reminded Sam of a madman. His father reached for his duffle bag and pulled out a length of rope and one of his hunting knives.

"Sam, get over here."

Sam, now terrified tried to stumble back from his father, away from him because he knows that this guy could not be his father. Sam didn't even have to think twice before he knew that the knife was meant for him. For his skin and for his heart. The younger Winchester tried to sprint away from his dad but John's arms wrapped around him like a snake to its prey, and his father's fist collided with his skull and everything went black.

Dean knew that his dad would pick a secluded spot to park his baby; years of hunting made you a paranoid bastard and John would always find secret places to park the impala as he didn't want people finding his hunting gear in the trunk or ruin his baby's paint job. Dean took his time trying to recover from being knocked out but he should have been faster, John and Sam would have left by now. _But for what?_Was the question that was playing on Dean's mind. Were John and Sam on a hunt or having some father-son bonding time without Dean? Frankly, he didn't know which was worse.

He looked at the grove of trees that led up to the Mountain, he was calculating the chances of him finding his brother, and that was when Dean saw it. A piece of black cloth hanging from the branch of a tree, Dean didn't have to think twice to know it was Sam's. When they hunt Wendigo's in forests and they have to split up, instead of using cell phones to communicate 'cause of the noise, they would cut a strip of their under shirts and hang them on tree branches in the direction they were heading. It always worked, and Sam, the smart-ass, was doing it right now. Dean _knew_ that he had a chance to save Sam.

So Dean set off, looking for Sam. It was relatively easy, spotting the distinctive black cloth pieces against the vegetation of the forest. His body had aches and pains and he was feeling thirsty, but he knew that every second could mean life or death for his younger brother. He reached a crest, a clearing and that's where he saw his brother.

Sammy was right in the centre of the clearing, tied up and was slumped as if he'd been knocked unconscious, which was probably due to the swelling red knot on his forehead. Right there and then, Dean seeing his brother bound and gagged, made Dean _promise_ that he was going to made his bastard of a father pay.

Dean saw John, wielding a knife and he didn't have to guess who it was for. Dean had to move swiftly and undetected as his father could strike a death blow to Sam at any moment. Dean got out his hunting knife, silver with a jagged edge, ready to use on his dad.

Then John started chanting in another language, not Latin or ancient Greek, something that felt older and every word seemed to make Dean's bones vibrate and make his mind buzz.

Just as Dean was going to run across the clearing to Sam, a bright light shined down on them, like a search light that they used in WWII. _Did they use them to search for lost hikers?_ Dean wondered. But as he looked up he saw that the light was coming directly above them. And nothing seemed to be the light source. Dean instantly knew that this was something supernatural.

Then shit really started to hit the fan.

The trees around the Winchesters started billowing as if they were in a storm. Lightening clashed with thunder, burning the trees, some trees even snapped due to the sheer force, and then a man emerged from the shadows. He was average height with black hair and wore a trench coat. He reminded Dean of John Constantine, a comic book character who wore a coat like that, but seriously, who goes hiking in a suit? Trench coat guy acted unfazed by what was happening around him, and Dean swore that every time lightening flashed, the shadows that it created behind him made it look like the guy had wings. Even Dean, the sceptic of the Winchester family, thought that this wasn't just coincidental. If Dean was scared before, it was nothing compared to the terror that was happening to him now.

Then the guy started talking.

"John Winchester. You have done as we asked? You have brought your son?" His voice was deep and gravelly and seemed to carry out all the way across the grove of trees.

John had a determined look on his face mixed with awe. "Yes, Castiel. I have done as you asked. He is here." John gestured to Sam; he still didn't stir, even though there was a storm not 20 seconds ago. Dean was still hidden; he had to wait for the perfect chance to strike. If he timed it wrong he had a feeling that the trench coat guy-Castiel could take him.

Castiel nodded, as if he was pleased, but he had a grim look on his face. "Then I must ask you to commence with the sacrifice."

_Sacrifice?_ Dean's heart was pounding. He missed the rest of the conversation between his father and Castiel, the blood was rushing in his ears, his breathing was in fast rapid breaths. He went into hunter mode; he needed to act fast.

John raised his knife, ready to let it slice along Sam's neck, it all seemed in slow motion for Dean, as if he was moving through quicksand. Dean knew that he wouldn't reach John or push past Castiel in time to reach Sammy. Dean was too late. So he done the only thing he could do.

"Stop! Dad, stop it! Stop!" Dean's voice was loud and hoarse he shouted louder than he ever thought possible, scared that his father did not hear. He ran out of the trees where he was hiding and made sure that John could see him.

Silence followed for several seconds. John turned around and looked at Dean, his face angry and confused. But Dean didn't care; Sam was unharmed, for now. Dean might have a chance to save him if he could distract dad and Castiel. Who by the way, was looking at him intensely. Like how a predator regards his prey.

Now that Dean was close enough to see Castiel, Dean wished he could run back to the rocks; Castiel had these bright blue penetrating eyes, that felt as if they were looking into his soul, his mind, his very being. And it terrified him.

"What is your name?" Castiel asked. His voice was powerful and yet, full of curiosity. He tilted his head and that made Dean think _Adorable!_ ...Weird. Dean was going to delete that thought.

"Dean. Dean Winchester." Dean decided to answer truthfully as he knew that despite how slight and slender Castiel seemed, he was a powerful being and should respect him. But this bastard wanted Sam dead so this guy can go fuck himself. "Who are you?"

"My name is Castiel." He stated, simple. Dean needed more of an explanation.

"Yeah, _what _are you?" Dean was pissed. Like really pissed. He reached for his hunting knife; if he could keep Castiel talking for longer he might be able to gank the bastard. Then his dad.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord." He said it with a straight face, but Dean could hear a hint of pride in his voice, and maybe a little sadness. _Angels? _Is he trying to be funny? Angels don't make you kill the people you love, they perch on your shoulder and be your guardian angel. Dean looked at John; he was just standing there, watching the interaction between his son and the Angel.

"Sure, and I'm batman." Dean retorted. Again, the angel done the head-tilt and Dean took the 'Angel's' momentary confusion as a chance to strike.

He pierced Castiel's heart with his knife and sprinted across to Sammy. _He is so close._ Dean dodged his father's blow and done one of his own. It hit John's cheek and sent him into the mud. He ran over to his brother and the first thing he felt was _relief_. And love. He loosened the knots that were around his baby brother's red wrists and cradled him in his arms as he stood up. But when he turned round, Castiel was there. Like up in Dean's face. And he looked _pissed. _He had a blood stain the size of a coin where his heart was, and Dean's knife wasn't in his heart, it was in his hand. Demon. He was definitively a demon.

"How dare you defy your father? Defy _me_?" Castiel asked, sounding astounded.

"You're _not _touching _my_ brother. Kill me, not him." To be honest, Dean really didn't care who he defied, as long as his brother was safe he'd defy even God himself!

Castiel frowned. "I do not understand." He whispered, but his voice still seemed powerful. He looked up at the sky. And disappeared with nothing except the sound of rustling. Then the elder Winchester collapsed onto the floor, with his brother in his arms.

**A/N: This story is based on Abraham and Isaac. That was probably obvious due to the story being based on the song Abraham's daughter. I'm really tired.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: DONE! I'm so glad I finished this, I felt like I took my time with this chapter, (sorry) but it was worth it.

Opening his eyes, Dean was sprawled out in the backseat of the Impala, the familiar warmth of the seat and the rumbling of the engine was a comfort to him. Head throbbing and eyes burning, Dean sat up and tied to ignore the amount of pain that the simple action caused. He saw his father in the driver's seat, hands clenched so hard around the steering wheel that they were almost white. Dean was relieved when he saw Sammy in the passenger seat, sleeping peacefully. But what was that on Sam's head? It looked like a bruise. Almost violently, Dean was bombarded with memories of what had happened. Sammy tied up and knocked out. Castiel, the 'Angel of the Lord' who Dean stabbed. And John, who betrayed his sons. Anger bubbled up within Dean. How dare his fucking dad, who hurt both Dean and Sammy, then have the fucking audacity to still drive them around the fucking country like everything was okay. Reaching for his knife in his jeans, Dean was surprised to find that his blade wasn't there.

"I took your knife," His father said, voice low and gruff. His eyes focused on the road ahead of him, not even looking at his eldest son. "I took it because I knew you were gonna respond like this, Dean."

"How else am I gonna respond dad? You were gonna kill me, kill Sammy! How do you think I'm gonna fucking respond?" Dean roared before he reached for John's handgun in the waistband of his father's pants. Unwavering, Dean aimed the firearm at John's head. Immediately, his father hit the brakes and the car stopped. Dean realised they were at some highway, surrounded by nothing but barren desert. There was a sign for a motel and gas station, 17 miles ahead. A jeep drove by. A lonely telephone pole and that was it. Nothing else but the Winchesters and the Impala.

"Dean," John said, his voice rough. "I get that you're angry-"

"I'm not angry dad! I'm fucking pissed! You bastard, give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out right now!" Dean yelled loud enough to wake Sam, whose eyes widened at the scene between Dean and his father.

"Dean? What are you doing?" Sammy asked, his eyes were big and suddenly full of tears at the realization that his big brother was actually going to shoot their father.

"Sammy, you know what dad done to you, right? No father should ever do that, hunter or not. They don't fucking use their kid as a sacrifice." Dean tried to keep his voice comforting, trying to reassure his baby brother whilst holding a gun to his father's head.

"But Dean, he's our dad! We can't kill him!"

"Yes we can, Sammy! He was gonna hurt you!"

"Dean, let me explain wha-" John was cut off by Sam.

"Dean, you're just being a hypocrite! You're mad at dad for tryna kill me, but you're about to do the same thing!" Sammy cried, tears were streaming down his broken face.

"Dean, stop this, right now!" John screamed, not daring to move, because he knew that his son, without hesitation will pull the trigger on him.

"What? Sammy, are you on dad's side now?" Dean asked his brother, ignoring his father as his temper increased.

"No! I will always be on your side, Dean. I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret!"

"Trust me Sammy, I won't regret this." Dean's finger tightened on the trigger, his hand steady.

"Dean, you're a hunter, not a murderer." Sammy said, seriously, for a kid of sixteen, he seemed so wise, so mature. Dean held his gaze with Sammy's. Sam's puppy eyes were red with tears and he looked terrified. He seemed terrified of Dean. If there was one thing Dean was going to achieve in his bleak, miserable life, it was to protect Sammy, make him happy no matter the cost. Swallowing a lot more than saliva, Dean let the gun drop from his father's temple but still aimed it at John, just in case. "Get out." Was all Dean said to his father through gritted teeth.

"What? Son, are you cra-"

"I'm not your son, I never have been. Now get the fuck outta the car."

"Dean-"

"You should just be lucky I'm letting you live, old man." Dean sneered. When John didn't move Dean slammed the muzzle of the gun forcefully to John's temple, causing him to gasp in pain.

"GET OUT!" Dean roared. "Just because I won't kill you, doesn't mean I won't shoot you so that it'll hurt like a bitch."

Reluctantly, John reached for the door handle and opened it gingerly. Taking one step out of the car he turned around to face his sons.

"What d'ya expect me to do, Dean? Do you want me to apologise? I'll explain everything to-"

"There's a motel about twenty miles down. Hitch a ride there, call Bobby. Hell, go to Vegas and marry a stripper if you want to. I don't care; just don't let me see your face again."

"You don't mean that, son."

"If it weren't for Sammy stopping me, you'd be dead in a ditch by now." Dean snarled.

"What have I taught you 'bout family, son? This aint how a family is supposed to act." John told his eldest son.

"That's the thing, dad. We aren't a family. Haven't been one for a long time." That was all Dean said before he hit the gas and drove away, putting more distance between him and his father. Anxiety was growing within Dean, as he realised he had just done what he thought he was far too scared to do: stand up to his father.

"Dean?" Sam asked. He had remained quiet during Dean and John's talk, not daring to say a word. But now it was just him and Dean, and he felt safe.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Looking at his younger brother, Dean smiled. A genuine, heart-warming smile. His little brother returned it.

"We're okay, right?" Sammy asked.

"Yeah, Sammy. We're okay."

…

Castiel was Disturbed. That was the only word to describe what had happened. The Angel had carried out his task that his superiors had told him to do and had confronted John Winchester whilst he was in a dream-state. Castiel had told the Winchester of his task and of the destiny of the righteous man and how to achieve it. John had complied and was to carry out the task, the sacrificing of his youngest son Samuel to prove his devotion to the Lord. The plan was simple, it was supposed to run like clockwork. Until Dean Winchester had intervened thus changing the course of destiny.

Dean Winchester. When Castiel, had first met Dean, the human male was brash, rude and stabbed the Angel, and even though it did not physically affect Castiel, he was still aggravated that the boy had the gall to attack an Angel of the Lord. Dean had also defied both his and Castiel's father's wishes to not interrupt the sacrifice of Samuel Winchester. But then, it was as if Dean Winchester had redeemed himself by volunteering to take his brother's place. Dean Winchester confronted a warrior of Heaven and would have willingly be used a sacrifice, to save the life of his younger brother. To be honest, it had surprised Castiel, many of his brothers did not hide their distaste for humanity and would say unpleasant things about his Father's creations. _Just a bunch of mud-monkeys. Plumbing on two legs_. Uriel would say.

Dean Winchester was the first human Castiel had ever met, and Dean had such a kind soul and was so pure of heart that the Angel couldn't fathom why his brothers had such a hatred for humans, and wanted to bring forth the Apocalypse to eradicate humanity. Dean Winchester was a shining example of the Lord's creations, as beautiful as the stars in his Father's universe. But Castiel was scared; he had felt so strongly for Dean Winchester. And it was even more terrifying because before the Castiel met Dean, the Angel had never felt before.

…

Dean knew that something supernatural was going on. Silence drowned out the distant sound of civilisation and only Dean's deep breaths and bird calls were the only thing to be heard in the isolated forest. Dean hated birds, their cawing at obnoxious times in the morning wake Dean up from his well needed shut-eye, and whenever he has a hunt in the forest, they always have to chirp whenever they saw him; alerting whatever thing Dean was hunting his location. And birds were always so _loud_, that Dean couldn't hear jack shit on a hunt. Basically, Dean felt like blasting their feathery asses full of gunpowder.

Dean's soft, hunter tread in the grass was a soothing sound for him, calming the Winchester for what he would do next. Dean liked the forest; it was where he felt relaxed. It had a wilderness ambience to it, yet it could be so tranquil.

Keeping a look out, Dean scanned the vegetation around him, searching for something supernatural. So far, no such luck. After him and Sammy left their dad, they went to a motel in Denver and after several days, Dean made Sammy enrol in high school so that he could complete his junior year. Dean got a job at an auto-shop as a mechanic but he also done local hunts on the side. After hunting for a decade, it was hard for him to break the habit, much to Sam's dismay.

Dean had spent several days doing research, and he had found out that the victims who went hiking in Colorado were found 2 weeks later, in a ditch with slash marks on their jugulars. Dean wasn't able to do a coronary investigation as he didn't have any official ID's made in such a short space of time, but people were dying and Dean had to act fast. Disregarding that, Dean was fairly confident with this hunt. Sure, the death patterns were a little off, but the Winchester was adamant that he was dealing with a Wendigo and it was the thing that was ganking people. Even Sammy, who had a good eye for researching, had agreed with his older brother.

Dean had his machete in the waistband of his jeans, but he was wielding his shotgun full of salt rounds just in case. Not forgetting he also had the box of matches and lighter fluid, to Molotov the Wendigo. Yeah sure, Dean knew the consequences of hunting a creature this dangerous by himself; it was hard enough to torch a Wendigo with two people. Hunters were like lone wolves; never joining the pack otherwise they would have to conform to the packs rules of Alpha/Beta. Painfully, Dean got hit with a pang of longing for his father, his hunting partner. Dean always thought he was a freakin' awesome hunter, but now he felt lonely and lost. But despite how much John had apologized, Dean knew he could never forgive his father for what he mercilessly put Sam through. Dean reused Sammy's plea to help Dean on the hunt as he couldn't bare it if his baby brother got injured.

Rustling was heard in the undergrowth, and Dean instantly went into hunter mode; he tightly gripped his weapons and was mentally figuring the most appropriate tactic to frying the sonofabitch. Anticipation filled the air, but it was countered by Dean's growing anxiety. Taking several breaths and putting his finger on the trigger, Dean prepared himself for the Wendigo that would burst through the trees. There! Rapidly, a figure was approaching Dean in the distance, but unlike the usual Wendigos that Dean hunts, this one seemed a little slower, Dean could actually make out its figure as it was heading straight for Dean.

Dean hit the trigger repeatedly, several bullets hit the target yet the damn monster was still on his ass. It didn't even falter. Dean dropped the gun and took out the lighter fluid and matches ready, with the machete to use, but as the Wendigo got closer, Dean realised it wasn't a Wendigo. It looked almost _human_.

Dean snapped out of a daze and focused on the thing that was approaching him. Dean realised the thing coming at him had porcelain skin, and it had distinguishable facial features, with dark brown hair, with dark eyes to match. This definitely wasn't a Wendigo. It might have even passed for human, apart from the hungry look in its eyes.

But Dean _knew_, whatever this creature was, it was the one that killed all those innocent people. Gripping the machete for dear life, Dean got ready to swing. The beast was about 20 meters away from Dean, and the Winchester prepared to strike the bitch as it came sprinting at him. Dean's reflexes kicked in, his muscles burning with anticipation; adrenalin flooded his body, making everything have a buzz to it.

Getting into a stance, Dean got ready; he was indecisive about whether to strike a blow to his heart, to slit his neck or try to completely decapitate the fucker. He'd only get one shot, the bastard seemed intent to kill Dean at any costs. What Dean definitely wasn't expecting was the creature to open his mouth and to see retractable fangs. What the fuck? It seemed almost like a-

_Vampire!_ And like using a baseball bat, Dean forcefully swung the machete, to behead the bastard.

Dean wasn't even sure that Vamps existed, but he knew he made the right decision to aim for the head as he definitely did not want the fucker's fangs next to him.

The machete sliced clean through the neck, only a little rough when the sleek metal hit bone. The sound of thudding when the head hit the floor first, then the rest of the body followed. Breathing deeply, Dean leaned against the bark of a tree as he closed his eyes to try and gather his thoughts. How the fuck were Vampires still around? Dad's friend Danny Elkins said that they were all extinct, because of hunters. But the hunters were obviously wrong as one Vamp was definitely alive and kickin'. Until Dean sorted it out. This was the thing that was causing the deaths? How did it even survive this long? Dean let his thoughts wonder off, slipping into his usual post-hunt phase.

But again, something was nagging at the back of his mind. The Winchester tried to mentally go over everything he knew about the bloodsuckers. Eventually, Dean gave up and tried to pull himself up off the hard earth. Dean glanced at the dismembered head; he needed to torch the body, leave no evidence behind. Hah, it's not like the vamp has any buddies. _Shit_. Dean remembered what was playing on his mind: Vamps always hunt in a group. Dread bubbled up within Dean, as he forced himself to stand. Vamps were always in a group, a nest. The alpha of the nest would send several betas to go hunt for their food, a.k.a humans. And Dean had just killed one of them. _Shit._

Scrambling up to a hunters stance, Dean looked around the area. Call it a hunter's instinct, but Dean was certain that they were more Vampires on the way. Keeping an eye out, Dean scanned the vast amount of trees for any sign of movement.

Dean saw vague humanoid shapes approaching him. Two of them. Dean put his body into a defensive stance, his muscles tensing. The first Vamp with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes sprinted out of the trees; her dainty feet were barely touching the ground. Suddenly she stopped in front of the Winchester, sizing him up.

"Hey pretty boy!" She growled, her voice was a striking contrast to her innocent, delicate appearance. "Wanna join us for dinner?" She suggested, a hungry look in her cerulean eyes.

_I am dinner, you mean…_Dean thought. "I'd rather just have a cheeseburger." Dean retorted before he swung the machete clean through her neck, her golden curls went bouncing as her head fell to the ground. These guys must have been newly made vampires; they seemed inexperienced, focused too much on their bloodlust that they didn't bother fighting.

_One more vamp…_ Dean thought. Gripping his machete tightly and ignoring the throbbing in his arm, Dean waited, listening to any noises that would give the predator away.

At every rustling sound, Dean would abruptly turn his head only to find nothing there apart from the trees_. It's messing with me…_The Vamp was trying to spook Dean. The scuttling stopped and everything went silent. Even the birds. Only Dean's harsh breathing was to be heard in the forest. Immediately, a deafening high-pitched sound pierced his ears.

The Winchester roared in pain but he could not hear himself scream, the wailing noise was that loud. Ears drums bursting, Dean dropped to the floor and put his hands to cover his ears in a futile attempt to stop the deafening noise from permanently affecting his hearing. The high-pitched noise resonated through his body and Dean felt something warm and wet against the sides of his face. Dean put his hands to cup his ears and he pulled them away to find out they were covered in blood. Dean felt everything vibrate, like the bass when he was in the impala and blasted the 'stones on the speakers, but this time everything was painful. Something hard collided into Dean's torso, making him sprawl into the hard, muddy earth, leaving Dean winded and struggling for oxygen. Opening his green eyes, Dean found himself grappling with a blond-haired Vamp, his fangs, deadly sharp, aiming for Dean's throat.

The noise was still blasting; it was resonating at a higher pitch and was seemingly getting louder as the fight between the human and the Vampire intensified. Dean made his fist collide with the Vamp's jaw, knocking him back into the ground. The creature fluidly sprang back up and grabbed Dean by the neck, getting a good grip, his fist wrapped around the delicate flesh of Dean's throat and squeezed hard. Black spots appeared in Dean's vision and his body went limp. Just when he thought he was going to die of asphyxiation, the tight grip on his throat loosened. Relief flooded through Dean but soon fizzled out as the vamp's fist tightened on his throat again. The whole 'pretending to strangle Dean' act lasted for several minutes. Every time Dean tried to close his eyes, he would just be jarred awake by the bloodsucker.

"Sorry about that." The vampire snarled, bearing his fangs. "I know I'm not meant to play with my food, but I like how desperate you are for oxygen; it will make your blood even more delectable."

Dean could barely hear what the vamp was saying; the blaring noise was becoming dangerously loud now, Dean had no idea how the Vamp wasn't writhing in pain by the sheer volume. The creature was still pretending to strangle Dean.

"You're a hunter, yes? No one else is that experienced in killing my brethren unless you hunt us for a living." The Vamp tilted his head in a childlike manner. He grinned devilishly, his fangs getting caught in his bottom lip, causing it to bleed. Blood was welling profusely from his lip, and he pressed his lips to Dean's. _NO!_ Dean's tried to hold the Vamp back but it was too late. Unlike the stories, humans don't turn into Vamps by being bitten by one; they turn into a Vamp by being fed the Vamp's blood. Dean could taste the tangy, metallic taste of the blood in his mouth, he tried to spit it out but he knew he was too late. He was going to change; he was going to turn into one of them. Dean felt as if he could not be in anymore pain. Until he felt fangs pierce the soft flesh of his neck.

Dean screamed, eyes opening wide at the amount of pain the Vampire had inflicted on him. Blood exited the wound in Dean's neck and the Vampire was sucking on his throat, trying to get as much blood as possible. Lapping at the blood, the Vampire was obviously too distracted to see Dean reach for his machete and behead him.

The head rolled several times before coming to a stop on the springy grass. Relief and victory flooded through Dean, as he realised he had ganked three Vamps. Too bad it had cost Dean his humanity. The piercingly loud noise died down, or maybe Dean went deaf due to the sheer volume, but testing out his theory, Dean swayed his head back and forth in the pile of leaves he was lying in, expecting to hear a rustling noise. But there was nothing. Silence. Dean knew that permanent, irreparable damage had been done to his ears. Lying back down, the Winchester tried to control his erratic breaths, he could feel it, feel himself turning into a vampire, and the poisoned blood was running sickly slow through Dean's body, leaving pain behind. Dean felt he had been contaminated, and the toxic substance was defiling what was left of his humanity.

Flooding out of his neck, the blood seemed to create a puddle around Dean. The blood loss made him feel dizzy and nauseated, his vision blurring, but Dean refused to close his eyes as Dean knew that if he did, the next time Dean opened his eyes, he would be a monster. He'd be a predator, ruthlessly killing innocent people.

Dean hoped he would bleed out first; he'd rather die than be inhuman. Dean stretched out his hand, reaching for his machete which was several meters away from where he was lying down. Dean never thought he'd die by killing himself, it always seemed to him like an easy way out, a last resort, but Dean was desperate. Dean ignored the pain and tried fumbling for his weapon but it was too far away. It wasn't until a pair of black dress shoes came into his line of sight that Dean stopped and looked. It was quite unusual to find people hiking in monkey suits and when Dean lifted his gaze to see something other than feet, Dean's heart dropped. There, flapping in the wind was tan colored material, a trench coat. And if Dean looked higher he knew he would see deep blue eyes staring at him. _Shit._ _No. No. NO._

Castiel squatted down so that he could look Dean in the eye. Dean cringed from the unwavering blue gaze that was set upon him so intensely. Embarrassed, Dean turned his head away from Castiel, he didn't want anybody, even some supernatural prick, looking at the Winchester in his final moments. Seeing Dean for a weakling and a pathetic excuse for a human. Tears formed in Dean's eyes as he realized how much he disappointed his mother, how he couldn't avenge her death. Or Sammy, now that Dean was either going to a) die or b) turn into a vamp; Dean would never see his baby brother again, who he promised he would keep safe. Dean was even crying for his father, a man he never made proud.

Castiel gently turned Dean's head to face him. The man's bright azure eyes were full of sadness and understanding, which was _not_ was Dean was expecting. He was expecting Castiel to get revenge, by stabbing Dean in the chest. Castiel's lips were moving slightly, and Dean realized he must have been talking to him, but Dean couldn't hear. Castiel realized Dean's situation and looked infinitely sad. Oh well, at least he could get payback on Dean for knifing him.

Softly, Castiel outstretched his arm and softly touched Dean's forehead. And the pain… disappeared. Dean's neck wasn't a mangled mess anymore, the blood that was gushing out of his throat stopped. The poison invading his body had gone. He could hear the trees rustling in the wind and Dean knew his hearing had returned. And it was all thanks to Castiel. Warily, Dean turned to face him.

Dean's voice was gruff, not giving anything away. "What did you do to me?" Dean asked.

"I healed you, Dean; it would not have been beneficial for you to be a blood-sucking parasite." Castiel stated, his voice monotone, which contrasted heavily with his bright blue eyes. They seemed to convey so much emotion.

"Parasite? You mean a vamp?" Dean asked.

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion, and Dean vaguely remembered that Cas had done that right before Dean had stabbed him. Dean would've called the action adorable. But he didn't.

"Yes," Castiel said, with a frown on his face. "A _Vamp._" He tried out the word with a frown of his face, as if it was the most offensive word he had ever said. He pronounced the word so awkwardly that Dean might have laughed.

"Well, what about my hearing? You healed that too. Why?" Dean inquired. Dean could understand why Cas had prevented Dean from becoming a blood sucking murderous vampire who would kill anything he could stick his fangs into, but why did Cas go through the trouble of healing Dean's hearing? It wasn't going to affect anybody but Dean, so what was the point?

Castiel sighed heavily and moved to sit on a boulder, he put his head on his arms and even though he was some supernatural prick, Dean thought that Castiel seemed like a guy who had a tough day at work. It made Cas seem less threatening, less scary. Cautiously, Dean moved so that he was sitting opposite Castiel.

"My true voice can be overwhelming to humans, Dean. I saw that you were outnumbered by the onslaught of Vampires so I tried to warn you. I didn't realise how loud I was." He looked up at Dean, his blue eyes apologetic. _Damn_. If Sammy had his puppy eyes, Castiel was sure working the hurt kitten look.

"Warn me…? Wait. That noise, that was you?" At Castiel's nod of confirmation, Dean remarked "Next time buddy, lower the volume." Even just thinking about the noise made Dean's ears ache.

"My apologies, humans are very fragile, sometimes it's hard for me to refrain myself."

"Yeah, so what are you? Some high-class demon?" Dean asked.

"Dean, you know what I am." Castiel said it as a statement, not a question.

What? Cas never said what he was, the only time was right before Dean had stabbed him. He said he was- "You're an Angel?" Dean scoffed. At Castiel's stiff nod of affirmation, Dean felt his heart drop.

"Angels don't exist, and if they did, they wouldn't be wearing raincoats." Dean said. After remembering what Cas was going to do to Sammy he felt his blood boil. "Angels wouldn't kill innocent children!" Dean roared.

Castiel's face was impassive. "I told you, I am an Angel and I had orders. I was told to let the sacrifice of Samuel Winchester commence."

Something was playing on Dean's mind, something didn't add up. "Yeah, so why did you save me? A few days ago you were ready to kill my brother without giving a shit and-"

"That's not true, Dean. I didn't wish to kill a human child." Castiel said softly, remorse evident in his eyes.

"But you were gonna if I didn't stop you. And why exactly would an Angel want to save me, huh?" Dean asked incredulously. "I mean, look at me, I'm the furthest you can get from a saint."

"I don't believe that, Dean. And I don't think you believe it either." Castiel's deep blue eyes were assessing Dean, making him feel venerable, exposed. It made Dean feel uncomfortable and he wanted Cas out of his face as soon as possible, so Dean picked up the shotgun off the floor and shot Castiel in the heart. _Twice_. Gunshots echoed throughout the forest. Unsurprisingly, Castiel was still standing, Dean knew it wouldn't affect Castiel, but he just really wanted Cas to get the message and leave. The Angel looked back at Dean, with hurt clear in his eyes. Disappointment was there too. Even a little anger.

Castiel looked at Dean, properly looked at him, the full extent of his blue-eyed gaze on the Winchester. "You may find this hard to believe Dean, but I saved you because you _deserve to be saved."_

With that, a rush of wind and Castiel was gone. Surprised, Dean scanned the trees to see if the guy was hiding, but he had actually vanished, and Dean could have sworn that the moment Castiel left that Dean had heard feathers. And for some reason, Dean doubted it was the birds that made the noise. Dusting his jeans and wiping the wetness in his eyes, Dean moved over to collect the dismembered vamps to burn.

As the bodies were drowning in the flames, Dean could hear bird calls in the distance, almost as if they were celebrating the deaths of the Vampires that had inhabited the forest. And this time, as Dean was scooping up ashy remains, he didn't really mind the noise the birds were making.

A/N: And I hoped that I didn't make this chapter too Twilight-ish with the whole 'vampires in the forest, finding out the truth about a supernatural being, blah blah blah.' My friend pointed this out to me and now I cannot unsee.


End file.
